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Home of the dead

The inflicted spirits dwell

Fearing its own self

Creating its own hell

In the depths of torment

Souls increase their pain

Screaming for their vengeance

Escaping from their shame

Unto its dampened mist

Fingers drip with moist

With saturated skin

Reveals the non-resisted choice

Attempted ways concealing

The puncture only more

Its boundries have no ending

A place worth dying for

Ridden from its worries

Addiction draws you near

All innocence forgotten

An image crystal clear

As its insides

Drip with pain

You realize the

Impossibility to escape

Forever to be left

In this place

But of course...

There's always my way